


Frankenstein’s Bride

by actuallymarie



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Awkward, F/F, Halloween, Species Differences, Unusual Erogenous Zones, VERY out of season boys but ive had this concept in my head for a while and, cliffhanger that will never be solved HA, its the hair, marina gets off by her hair, this happened my dad works at nintendo, unknowingly making your friend cum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallymarie/pseuds/actuallymarie
Summary: It’s the second halloween since Off The Hook went on air, and Marina isn’t quite giving it her all in the costume department. Pearl isn’t gonna let this slide.





	Frankenstein’s Bride

Everyone was getting dressed up, and about half of the air in the atmosphere was smoke from the billions of fog machines spread throughout Inkopolis. Spooooooky time was just around the corner, and that meant a Halloween Splatfest was in progress! Or, at least it would be in a couple of more hours. The theme was simple: would you rather be a crazy scientist, or perhaps a brainless monster? Take a wild guess on who the representatives would be.

Pearl’s tentacles put back into a ponytail, artificial cowlicks glued on to give an unkempt, “haven’t showered in days” look, with thick, nearly opaque goggles strapped to her eyes, rubber gloves, and a huge trench coat that went down to her ankles. She was going all out this year, like every year—there was no such thing as settling for second best. Marina had a ghastly, flowing white dress with oversized sleeves and stitches along her jawline... Though, her hair was pretty much the same aside from a tiny white streak long her front tentacle. As they met in the studio to make some last minute preparations, Pearl stared at her with disbelief, wrinkling her button nose as if disgusted.

“...What?” Marina asked after a moment’s hesitation, locking eyes with lens. Even though Pearl was nearly a foot shorter, she still seemed pretty scary.

“Are you _seriously_ gonna go out like that!?” barked the inkling, putting her hands out in front of her, “Your ‘do looks, like, so un-monsterish! At least put some hairspray in there!”

Marina pursed her lips, arms immediately parallel to her torso and turning her head, “Hey, I thought I did a pretty good job!” she argued weakly, awkwardly taking a hand to the only difference on her tentacle and touching it gently, flinching at the stinging it gave off. Bleaching it probably wasn’t a good idea. Don’t they make some kinda octo-friendly dye around here? “Sometimes minimal’s okay, right...?”

“Psh-aw! the whole point of dressing up for the great cuttlebone war is to _not_ be yourself! Totally ruins the immersion, ‘Rina.” Truthfully, Marina was well aware that her tentacles broke the immersion of being zapped to life and all, but styling it was nearly impossible; Octoling tentacles were more... Sensitive, than their ten-legged counterparts, since they could be cut and turned into their own personal soldiers. It acted less like hair and more like an organ if that made any sense.

“...But-“

“No buts!” snapped the princess of rap, pointing to herself to help boast about her ego, “You’re lucky you’ve got me by your side! I’ll get that rug fixed up in no time!” Marina’s heart sank, too low to notice any double entendre in her partner’s dialogue like she always did. Your mind didn’t work too well in the gutter when the rest of your body joined along with it.

“But-!”

“Nada! You can thank me later!”

In a flash, the DJ was plopped into a chair in front of Pearl’s vanity with no time to react as a massive tub of hair gel thudded onto its surface.

Oh, dear.

She took off her rubber gloves (which, to be fair, were just for show, being regular cleaning ones spray-painted black) and sunk an entire hand into the stuff, squelching comically before she pulled out a fistful and pulled her friend’s tendrils upward, sizing it up for a moment. “Wish my hair was still all flowy like yours...”

The compliment fell on deaf ears, the sudden barber’s customer waving her hands around in a panic as she was unable to shake her head; even the slightest tug would be social suicide. “Nononono, really, I’m fine, Pearl, I just-“

“Relax, it’ll be fiiiine!” she reassured, too dense to see the urgency on the fellow star’s face and taking it as simply being worried about her hair, “It’ll go completely back to normal once you wash it! Y’know, probably.”

Without a second thought, she took a thick glob of gel and coated her tentacles with it, making Marina tremble at the sticky sensation, only to be completely slain as Pearl spread it to her tips in long, thorough strokes. Her head jerked back in reflex, squeaking before holding her breath to shut up. Each glide traveled down to the very core of her body, every tug sending heavy waves of aching need between her legs.

“Your roots must be real sensitive, huh?” the short one asked, seeming to be really proud of being taller than her editor for once, “No sweat, I’ll be extra gentle.”

“Bh-Waiiit...” Her eyes were all misty and half-lidded, making tiny, occasional twitches as former panic turned into a forbidden mix of shame and pleasure. Her underwear was already soaked from the unintentional teasing of going slower, wanting more as her tendrils were shaped up high, though gravity continued to remain an issue.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought,” Pearl huffed with a tentacle in hand, unaware of how it throbbed or how Marina’s face was a solid shade of turquoise at this point. When that girl set her mind to something, everything else was as good as invisible to her. “Hold on a sec.”

As she bent down to look through her drawers, the poor Octoling finally let out the breath she kept in for so long, air acting as a fire extinguisher from the gods to her burning lungs. Little did she know that this was a calm before the storm.

A sudden snap took her out of her fuzz. An oddly-shaped, circular hairpin clamped her hair together, causing her to flinch and uncontrollably gape her mouth open, squeezing her legs as hard as they could as she covered her face. Holy shit. Holy SHIT. Her sensitivity somehow grew tenfold as all of that inkflow stayed trapped inside her tendrils, to the point where the meaningless teasing suddenly turned to the actual possibility of a release. And it was coming, quicker than she expected. Her adrenaline suddenly kicked in out of fear, rising up before Pearl suddenly pulled them all back with a grunt for one last tug. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her muscles started to lose control.

“ _Nngghahaaaa-Aghhah-!!_ ” Her legs and shoulders trembled and her pelvis bucked upward as basic instinct took over. “Nnhhoo-iiii-ie- _mmnnhh...!_ ” Marina’s thighs were wiggling around shamelessly to squish and rub at the mound in the middle as it throbbed harshly, spewing out more fluids and managing to creep down her legs. Her teeth gritted harshly to show off her humiliated yet genuine O-face, exposed as she kept her hands on her ears to block out her own literal wails of pleasure, which ironically just made them louder in her head. As the waves slowly got weaker and weaker, and the ability to control herself at least somewhat returned, she felt as if she had just committed a murder—a murder of casual friendship, that was. She forced herself to bring her head to the right and glanced at the stunned, gel-coated artist from behind her.

“...Ah... Wh...-..”

Yup, squid-god is dead.


End file.
